


Lost

by suck_my_fic



Category: One Piece
Genre: Enemies to one-sided lover, First Kiss, M/M, My First Smut, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Post-Time Skip | One Piece, Rough Kissing, Sanji imagines Zoro giving him a bj, Sanji is a pervert, What-If, ZoSan - Freeform, but for Zoro, for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-12-20 17:56:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21060812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suck_my_fic/pseuds/suck_my_fic
Summary: Imagine being secretly infatuated with your rival/enemy/crew mate. Now imagine acting on it.Set on an island filled with bananas and banana shaped things.





	1. Banana Island

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy my first ever fic (or any form of creative writing)!! This will be multi-chaptered and will only get smuttier (hopefully)!!!

“Shit, this is all Marimo’s fault,” Sanji muttered under his breath. Of course he would get lost trailing behind this directionally challenged moron. Still, the Cook couldn’t give Zoro all the credit, this tropical island had a strange way of disorientating him. He tried searching for The Sunny they anchored not too long ago but all Sanji could see were giant banana trees. 

“They’re plants not trees” he remembered Usopp correcting Luffy. “They’re actually herbs that grow from bulbs-” from there he had tuned out Ussop’s droning. The Cook certainly didn’t need a lesson on herbs. Besides his mind then, and now, was fixated on one thing. That kiss.

“Never asked you to follow me, Shitty Cook,” Zoro snapped, leaping over a fallen banana. Thing was as long as his leg! 

Oddly, the only life form Sanji detected, bar the rest of the crew, were these lofty banana trees. No sign of inhabitants, animals or even other vegetation. Lovely Nami-san mentioned that the island barely registered on the log pose so this discovery just added to its eeriness. These findings, however, didn’t make Zoro’s retort grate on him any less. He was right, after all. Why _was_ Sanji still following him?

“Oh, so you’re speaking to me now,” Sanji scoffed. 

They fell back into an uncomfortable silence, the Shitty Swordsman seemingly determined not to give him any more attention. Sanji used that as an excuse to return to his previous act of transgression. Ogling Zoro’s bare, sweaty back. The _real_ reason the Cook continued stalking him, knowingly getting lost.

His eyes first caught tendrils of mossy hair matted against the nape of a thick, veiny neck. Sanji was pleased to see the green crowned Swordsman grew it out a little over the two years they were all separated. His fingers curled instinctively as he imagined tugging on that leafy mane, exposing the flesh he could only dream of tasting and marking with his teeth. 

Would he moan? Grunt? Sanji was so desperate to find out what sounds an aroused Zoro would make. What face he would pull as he walked the tight rope between pain and pleasure. How it would feel to run a tongue over his tanned skin, chasing down the beads of perspiration disappearing into his undone Kimono. Sanji would make sure he gave every scar extra attention, sucking, grazing and lavishing the marred flesh until he elicited a groan from that rigid man. 

It wouldn’t be enough, though. Zoro would remain stubbornly mute so Sanji would involve his nails. Gently, at first, racking over his powerful back but gradually getting more aggressive as Sanji’s own arousal heightens. The aftermath would leave long, red welts overlapping old, pale scars creating an indescribably erotic scene. 

And yet this still would not be enough to break that obstinate Swordsman, which is the frustratingly common ending to Sanji’s carnal fantasies. Years of competing and feuding made it difficult to imagine a sexually satisfied Zoro. Or, satisfied in general. Perhaps one day that could change, but for now he could only let out a deep, disappointed sigh.

Present Marimo-kun raised his arm to push a giant leaf out of his path and, as if in a trance, Sanji’s eyes followed the movement, captured by the flex of each exaggerated muscle. That moment of reality slung him right back into his depraved delusions. 

Thinking of Zoro returning the favour had blood rushing to his ears and colouring his cheeks, leaving him more disoriented and dazed. He would be aggressive, Sanji mused. Zoro would yank hard enough to shed hair, not tug. And he would bite down until he broke skin, lapping up the blood he drew all with a cruel, pleased look on his scarred face. 

The Cook wouldn’t be able to contain his moan. He would place his lips right against Zoro’s ear and let him hear every whimper he wrenched out of his throat, “Hmmm, yes. Harder, Marimo-kun.” 

Arousal would not let the Cook stop there, either. He would boldly press his erection against Zoro to let him know just how eager and close he was, but the wicked Swordsman purposely disregards its presence. He enjoyed punishing Sanji so that’s what he would do. Leave him a puttering, neglected mess until he begs to be relieved and only when Zoro is good and ready, would he attend to Cook’s needs. 

Releasing the grip on Sanji’s hair, the Swordsman would slowly, but harshly, work his way down Sanji’s taut body, deliberately skipping over his pleasure spots. Cook close to the edge now, would pant hopelessly, “fuck, Zoro. _Please!_” 

Upon hearing his name, the restrained Swordsman’s self-control would falter and his hands would come to life. Palms caressing. Fingers gripping. Nails clawing. The contrasting sensations would drive Sanji insane, propelling him dangerously close to spilling. 

With one adept hand kneading and spreading the Cook’s ass, the Swordsman would reach between them for the cock now frantically rubbing against him. Nibbling Sanji’s ear, he would hum, “is _this_ what you wanted, Curly Brow?”, as he engulfs the whimpering Cook in a tight fist over his, uncomfortably constricted, slacks. 

And that’s all it would take. Hair dishevelled, skin raw, mouth agape, back arched, Sanji would come apart, fully clothed.

At least, that’s what he hoped would happen. But, as it stands, Zoro and Sanji have had exactly zero sexual encounters. Well, apart from _that kiss_. So, one?


	2. Green Spring Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _With the water gently fluttering over his swollen sex, he took a long finger and lightly traced the underside, simulating Zoro’s exploring tongue. His breath hitched as a dark, curious eye mischievously staring back at him flashed through his mind. “You excited for me to taste you?” the throaty voice rang clear in his thoughts._
> 
> Sanji recaps the events that led to the biggest mistake of his life.

That stupid kiss is what led Sanji chasing after this clueless buffoon, staggering in the sweltering heat, trying to hide the erection proudly tenting his pants. Would it be believable if he said he was storing a banana in his pocket?

The Cook started collecting said fruit to restock the kitchen’s produce as his mind wandered back to the topic he’d been unsuccessfully avoiding. Previously, on the ship, he had a moment not dissimilar to the one that lead him limping behind the Swordsman, discreetly adjusting his crotch. Sanji’s day began like any other.

He awoke at the crack of dawn, the growl of Luffy’s stomach and his sense of duty the only alarm needed to draw him from unconsciousness. Cook smoked his morning cigarette on the crow’s nest to let the crisp ocean breeze blow away any lingering fatigue. _Not_ because that part of the ship was Zoro’s usual sleeping spot. Brook was the designated look out today.

Revived and energised he went on to prepare breakfast. _Meat for his captain, Sake for Marimo_, Sanji went through a mental checklist of the crew’s preferences, devoting more time and attention to his beloved Nami-san’s fruit bowl and darling Robin-chan’s coffee.

Cook finished up just as the early birds of the crew were rising, fondly greeting his female companions as he headed to the boat’s bathhouse. Franky had structured the room to resemble an indoor onsen, unfortunately, separated by sex. A luxurious tub monopolised most of the space, the rest occupied by cubicles and other bathroom facilities. 

The hot spring is where Sanji spent the rest of his morning, washing away the grime from the kitchen, lathering his blond locks and working to release the aches in his muscles. Including the morning glory he sported for Marimo-kun. 

This became an addition to his daily routine ever since they reunited at Sabaody Archipelago, several islands ago. He took advantage of every scrap of privacy his hectic occupation allowed, using it to relieve and discharge any tension. In other words, masturbate. To Zoro, specifically.

Being dumped and abandoned on Kamabakka Kingdom, over 2 years ago, was the beginning of the end for Sanji. As much as he, _gradually_, grew to love the Okamas, the Cook couldn’t wait to set eyes on the women that filled his fantasies. He missed their sweet, floral scent. The angelic sound of their giggles and caress of their smooth, silky skin. So, it was a surprise that, once he escaped ‘The Land of Maidens’, the object of his desires became none other than the Shitty Swordsman.

After the initial shock - and disgust - Cook resolved to accept this sudden infatuation. It was either that or prance around with a perpetual hard on. Besides, he wasn’t one to deny himself sexually. Or, the allure of Zoro.

With a great deal of meditation and careful consideration, Sanji reasoned his attraction even made sense. Their bond was intense from the very beginning, clashing and insulting soon after they met. Hate and love are two sides of same coin, so this wasn’t that unusual. Inevitable, perhaps.

Sanji was submerged in the lavender scented bath water and, taking advantage of the spacious tub, stretched out his lithe limbs. He intended to have an uninterrupted soak whilst fondling himself, knowing that the brutes in his crew already had their weekly wash. But, the day had other plans for him.

Enveloped by smoky mist, he used the clandestine cleansing to float back into his filthy daydreams. This session, fictitious Zoro would finally take the plunge and welcome Sanji into his mouth. 

The thought of someone like Marimo, cocky and imperious, performing such a submissive act, excited him boundlessly. Eager to get started, Cook closed his eyes and began pressing deep, sensual strokes along his slick pecs offsetting the pornographic reel conceived in his mind. 

Zoro enjoyed tormenting his prey, so to emulate that Sanji brushed a thumb over his nipple, pinching and twisting till it stiffened, persisting to tease for a cruel, endless minute. Soft mewls crescendoed to high pitched whines that bounced off the tiles carrying a symphony of echoes back to his ears. Apparently, the dream Swordsman had deft hands. 

“Ohhh, lower,” he panted into the empty bathroom. Cook’s own hand slipped down his flat torso, gliding over his wet curls before settling between his legs, cupping and caressing. 

With the water gently fluttering over his swollen sex, he took a long finger and lightly traced the underside, simulating Zoro’s exploring tongue. His breath hitched as a dark, curious eye mischievously staring back at him flashed through his mind. “You excited for me to taste you?” the throaty voice rang clear in his thoughts. 

“Yes,” he would respond, impatiently. “Yes, yes, yes,” he repeated into the steam, words evaporating before him.

Zoro looked like a natural. Green, spiked hair, the perfect anchor to use when falling into a euphoric frenzy. One eye darker than the abyss, dragging you into an endless fit of lust and the other scarred shut, permanently veiling the night’s filthy secrets. Lush, curved lips left gleaming and wet with pre-come, tongue snaking out to catch every drop. Certainly, the man with the exceptional mouth that simultaneously wielded a sword and hurled insults could swiftly conquer the art of oral sex. 

Restless now, Cook circled his erection, heavy and thick, briefly squeezing the shaft before giving long, slow pulls. The measured strokes kept him hurting, blood laced with hot chemicals racing through his body. He couldn’t stop the string of curses that followed. Despite the almost scalding water, goose bumps dotted his flushed skin and a shiver ran down his spine curving his back off the side of the tub. 

He quickened the strokes in time with the speed of fantasy Zoro’s mouth swallowing his cock. His teeth clenched, head mashing against the tiles as he tightened his grip. “Ah, uh, k-keep going Mm-Marimo,” words tumbled out, incoherently.

He was edging closer to climax, muscles aching from exertion, but the merciless Swordsman wouldn’t let him finish in his mouth. Somehow, that was too far. Instead, he imagined Zoro towering over him, hard and impatient and erect. Holding release just out of Sanji’s grasp to assert dominance. The evil man would want to make him come apart in his hands. 

“Fuck, you bastard. Make me come.” The pathetic demand would fall on deaf ears.

He would squeeze the cock, leisurely at first but when the Cook’s pleas become desperate, the Swordsman’s own excitement would peak, losing some grace as he pumps his fist faster, strokes quick and clumsy.

Zoro wouldn’t say a word, however. Knowing that the Cook craved his voice, he would remain silent. Not until Sanji was on the verge of erupting, brow knitted with painful arousal, throat tight and gasping for air.

He used his last breath before climax to scream, “Zoro!” 

Then, at last, the makeshift swordsman would, _finally_, gift him with his beautiful, guttural voice. “What?”

Sanji’s eyes flew open. That wasn’t in his head. He removed the death grip on his sex and shoved wet hair away from his face, squinting into the dimly lit, hopefully empty space.

“This ain’t your personal hot spring, Dart Brow,” said a very ticked off, very real Zoro. “Franky built it big enough for three people at a time.”

Like a dream, the green haired, well-built Swordsman emerged from the man-made fog in nothing but a small towel, wrapped loosely around a toned waist. 

Sanji’s jaw went slack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovely people!!!
> 
> This chapter was originally much longer but I split it into 2 to make the read easier. I also had a lot of pent up smut that couldn't be contained in one chap ;)
> 
> Also for my shoujo fans the title of the chap was inspired by Blue Spring Ride. Green (for Zoro) Spring (where chap is mainly set) Ride (b/c whew this is a rollercoaster!)


	3. I Kissed a Swordsman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _As shocking as it was for the victim of his perverted ramblings to walk in on him jerking off, his arousal barely dampened. Need still pooled between his legs now tainted with the thrill of humiliation and frustration. Sanji continued surprising himself with his newfound kinks._
> 
> How will Sanji cope with the sexy swordsman intruding on his private bath time?

“W-w-what are you doing in here?” Sanji stuttered. He couldn’t believe he was so absorbed by his lecherous imagination he didn’t notice someone entering the onsen. Just as unbelievable was that the Shitty Swordsman was occupying a bath house to begin with. 

Zoro just stood at the foot of the tub looking down at him, an unreadable expression casting his face. Sanji stopped breathing. How long had he been standing there? Did he catch him fondling himself? Did he hear him moan his name? Why did _he_ have to be the one to walk in?

“Not that it’s any of your damn business,” the delayed response came. “But, Chopper has been under the weather lately, so I thought a bath together would cheer him up.” This didn’t come as a surprise to the Cook. Marimo-kun had a father-son like bond with Chopper and his sense of responsibility went beyond just crew mates. He couldn’t say he wasn’t a little envious.

Sanji blew an extended sigh of relief, body slumping into the water. He felt weightless, like all the strength had been zapped out of him. Thankfully, he hadn’t been caught with his proverbial pants down, so to speak.

The sound of the ship’s engine, in the distance, had nothing on the Cook’s pounding heart. Drowning himself wasn’t a viable option so he, reluctantly, decided to stand up. Not fully, though. He still needed to conceal the obscenity hanging between his legs. Hunched over, he grabs a towel from a bench beside him and hastily wraps it around his hips, tucking in the erection.

As shocking as it was for the victim of his perverted ramblings to walk in on him jerking off, his arousal barely dampened. Need still pooled between his legs now tainted with the thrill of humiliation and frustration. Sanji continued surprising himself with his newfound kinks. 

“Hah, you look like a frickin’ lobster. Maybe we should eat _you_ for lunch.” Zoro mocked, sniggering at his own joke.

Right then, Sanji could’ve melted into a puddle and trickled into the lukewarm bath water that was, till a moment ago, the only witness to his misdeeds. The pun had hit a little too close to home. Yet, as embarrassed as he was, Cook wasn’t ashamed to admit he would, gladly, serve himself up on a silver platter if Zoro was the one being served. 

His neglected cock twitched as he fought to keep from imagining it. To keep from groaning in the presence of the lover that lived, unaware, outside of his fantasies. Surely, facing CP9 was less agonising than this…

“Ya done?” the Swordsman asked as he gingerly dipped a toe into the water, pulling a disgusted face. What was he, a cat?

Without acknowledging him, Sanji took a step out of the spring and was hit with a wave of dizziness. His head swam with conflicting thoughts, unable to focus on one thing. _Get dressed. Zoro. Start lunch. Zoro. Restock supplies. Zoro. Kiss. Zoro._ He forcefully lowered a cognitive barrier, blanking his mind.

Cool air assaulted his flushed skin as hot blood pumped through his body. He registered the tell-tale signs of a nose bleed. With any luck, his condition could finish him off and save him from this nightmare. He took another tentative step.

“What’s with you?” Marimo-kun sounded more exasperated than concerned. 

Sanji looked up, prepared to flip him off in response when his breath caught. With steam drifting over his naked skin, arms folded over a wide chest and a scowl adorning his face, Zoro appeared as though he’d stepped out of Cook’s filthiest fantasy. The menacing look shot a bolt of electricity down his spine, knocking the wind out of him.

In a trance-like state, he carried his wobbly legs across the slippery tiles to plant him toe to toe with Marimo-kun. A slight tilt of his neck had him face to scarred face, noses inches apart, blue eyes staring into a dark, bottomless eye. He was close enough to feel his body heat and inhale the heady aroma of sweat and sake. The most addictive scent to exist.

“What the-,” he didn’t allow the shout of confusion deter him from the next step. Ready to accost the Swordsman with corrupt intentions, Sanji was unstoppable. Beyond comprehension and reason. The toxic mix of unfulfilled lust, dumb courage and self-destruction possessed his system, driving out all rationality and sense.

He stretched out his left arm, lightly brushing his fingers over bare, tanned skin, before settling a slick palm on the Swordsman’s shoulder. He placed the other hand over his left pec. 

Sanji felt… Calm. Like the storm in his skull, brewing from the moment they reunited in Sabaody, had finally stilled leaving him numb. He was acting on instinct now, unburdened by doubt or consequence. 

“Oi. You wanna go crappy Cook?” Zoro attempted to shrug him off, understandably rattled by the sudden proximity and gentle contact. Usually, when they were this close it involved blood and violence. Not this time. Not yet, at least.

Sanji’s grasp became firmer, short nails biting into skin. Ignoring the wince etched on the Swordsman’s face, he took a deep inhale, closed his eyes and did the only thing his body craved – he kissed him.

The first thing that registered was the sweet taste of alcohol coating those sinful lips, sending a light buzz through his system. Next came the feel of his stubble scratching against smooth chin. Zoro’s cry of surprise vibrated against his mouth and he swallowed the sound. He didn’t dare breath. As if feeding his lungs would shatter this moment, leaving shards of him scattered around the bath house.

This fleeting encounter felt like it lasted a lifetime. Time ceased to exist. The expanse of ocean under the ship reduced to the space between their lips. An act that felt dirtier and more erotic than anything he ever fantasised. 

As he boldly plunged his tongue to deepen the kiss, Zoro pulled away. Reality came crashing down like the vicious currents of the Grand Line. What had he just done?

Sanji braved a peek and his heart sank. The dark look on the Swordsman’s face rivalled one of Nami’s man-made thunderstorms. He winced and shut his eyes tightly, squaring his jaw for the warranted punch he had coming.

The Cook could hear blood roaring in his ears, drowning the sound of the water fountain filling the tub. Forehead was slick with sweat, matting hair over his curly brow. He could feel his heart thump, thump, thumping out of his chest and feel his fingertips tingling with adrenaline. Still, no punch.

The delay must’ve been part of his punishment. Surprise attack for a surprise attack. Fuck that. He just wanted this hellish morning over with so he could get on with being the crew’s chef and second strongest member. “Yo. Marim-”

A heavy force rammed into Sanji, cutting off his protest and toppling him over. The air whooshed out of him and he struggled to regain any oxygen. He expected to fall onto his ass, but something was holding him upright. The Swordsman’s hand, he noted, was gripping the back of his neck the other pinning him against the wall. It took Cook a couple beats to realise that the impact wasn’t made by a fist, but a face. Zoro was kissing him!

Not exactly a kiss – more two open mouths devouring, teeth clashing, tongues warring. Hands sliding against bare skin, fingers clawing, naked legs tangling. It was graceless, aggressive, chaotic yet synchronised and passionate. A reflection of their relationship.

The blood once gathered in his head raced down south, leaving him giddy and harder than ever. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He dared not question, however. 

The Cook let a moan escape his throat and was answered with a delicious bite on his bottom lip. The metallic taste in his mouth encouraged him to close the minuscule gap between them. Toned stomach rubbing against washboard abs, nipples grazing, the length of his erection pressed between Marimo-kun’s legs.

Sanji sucked in a breath. Zoro was stiff behind his towel. The contact made them both groan in unison.

And just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. Sanji went from kissing his crush to kissing the ground. Stars danced around his vision, left cheek throbbing, the inside shredded by his teeth. A coughing fit rattled his chest and erupted from his mouth. Ah, there was that familiar sight of blood.

The Cook’s brain was clanging against his skull, making his ears ring. Dazed, he managed to strain his eyes just in time to catch a blurry glimpse of the Swordsman’s retreating form. 

“W-wait. Hold. On.” he slurred, not quite recovered from the blow. 

Only answer he received was a slam of the glass door. The Swordsman had wordlessly left him crumpled on the floor, body aching and a sputtering, pleading mess. Be careful what you wish for.

Everything from that point was a haze. Sanji vaguely remembers hurriedly dressing himself and chasing after Zoro. The ship had docked on the mysterious island by the time he rushed out of the bathhouse. The rest of the crew were preparing to embark on an expedition, seemingly unaware of his abnormally ruffled appearance and erratic behaviour. 

“Sanji! Food! Food!” his naïve, gluttonous Captain yelled. The Cook ignored the request as he frantically searched the deck for the Swordsman. He spotted a green figure zigzagging between the banana trees and charged after it.

Which brought him here, to this moment. Lost in a jungle and is own thoughts. Stomach churning, face hot and blushing from reminiscing his grievous mistake. 

Sanji’s greatest fear was for this kiss and his infatuation to alter their relationship. Something he wanted Zoro to be aware of but the Swordsman barely acknowledged his presence let alone let him explain.

The Cook’s patience was thinning. Who was he to sit on his high horse and give him the cold shoulder, when he’d _returned_ the kiss? Marimo-kun had pinned him against the wall and given him a makeout session that would haunt his dreams forever.

Sanji was not going to be at his mercy any longer. He was going to address the friction between them, imperatively. Palming one of the many bananas he juggled in his arms, he launched it at Zoro, bouncing it off his mossy, brainless head.

“Oi, shitty samurai.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey beautiful people!!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this hot chapter xx


End file.
